A Blank Canvas
by vulpes opaca
Summary: Before Red, Ryan Eiker became the youngest ever World Champion, only 17. Shortly after, because of a mysterious disaster, he is presumed dead. Washed up on a beach somewhere with no memories, his body remembers only one thing: Pokemon battles!


**A Message to the Readers** - Hello there! I've been meaning to write _some_ sort of a FanFiction so I can practice my writing, so please, I'd very much appreciate any constructive criticism you decide to leave. I also enjoy simple words of encouragement a lot, so if this prologue did as it should and made you want more, please tell me so!

**IMPORTANT! **- I have a specific headcanon for the world this is written in. It's not much different from what you'd normally read, but it might help answer some questions or inconsistencies you might notice.  
>1) The Pokemon world is simply an Alternate Universe of reality where Pokemon exist instead of animals. Our ancient history is pretty much the same, though more so in general idea than specifics.<br>2) Everything we as players know now in the current generation is known in the Pokemon world.  
>3) This story takes place before the storyline of RedBlue/Green/Yellow/FireRed/LeafGreen.  
>4) The world is based off the game, but is more realistic (e.g. - if the Pokemon can fly, it can learn the HM Fly, regardless of type; the amount of moves a Pokemon can learn is dependent on the skill of the Pokemon and trainer; etc.)<p>

**Update** - I apologize to whomever read this prologue and wanted more and, while I hope to be doing more, I doubt it will ever be regularly posted. So instead, I will promise my highest possible quality instead (which is one reason I've edited this prologue). Anyway, disclaimer and then story. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not profit in any way from this story. All characters and content belong to their original creators. Pokemon is a registered trademark of Satoshi Tajiri and Nintendo.

_To take a photo is to remember a moment,_

_But to paint a picture is to bring it back to life._

-Original Quote

**A Blank Canvas**

_"A story about what it takes to regain what is lost."_

[-]_  
><em>

Prologue: A Blank Canvas

-_...the storm came up from nowhere, a typhoon unlike anything seen before. Scientists are estimating power well past double that of a Category 5 hurricane and while no one has yet to determine the cause of this disaster, many speculate that, with the speed that it appeared and disappeared, it cannot have been natural. Some are even speculating a new type of terrorist weapon specifically used for destroying the luxury cruise-liner S.S. Fairmont...-_

Glued to the screen, I sensed rather than saw that everyone had stopped what they were doing. Behind me in the kitchen the clatter of dishes had ceased, the white noise of the faucet a moment later. Even my little sister seemed to sense she should stop her humming. Over the sound of the TV I heard her innocently ask; "Mommy. Isn't that the boat big brudder's on?" I tensed at the choked sound in mother's voice as she firmly told Sally to be quiet.

The atmosphere in the house weighed heavily on me, like the air before a storm. I found it hard to breathe.

_-...businessmen and celebrities on the ship have survived due to the quick reaction of the young World Champion, Ryan Eiker, and his pokemon. According to the survivors, as the ship began to break apart he encased the passengers in bubbles of ice that protected them, as well as acting as lifeboats.-_

I found myself unconsciously grinning at my brother's genius, but back in my mind there was still a nagging thought. Where was he? My jaw begin to ache and I realized my teeth were grinding. I clamped my jaw shut. Where was he ...

_-All the survivors are tremendously grateful to the young man who saved their lives. Tragically, among the survivors, young Ryan is not to be found. No one knows what may...-_

At that moment my blood became like ice in my veins, my flesh grew cold with a crawling sensation and I was no longer listening. The sounds of the reporter, of mother's fierce sobbing and little Sally, scared and confused with her usually quiet voice climbing into a keen ... it all became muted as the rapid beating of my own heart became a painful crashing sound in my ears.

_That can't be true!_ My voice swore angrily in my mind. _Not my brother, he wouldn't just die like this! Surely ... _Suddenly, like a small child unable to handle something, I sensed a part of myself curl up. _Gone ... gone ... No more playing with him. No more getting into trouble. No more teasing ... just gone ..._

Dad's powerful, deep voice crashed through silence and shook me back to wakefulness. "Turn that _damned_ machine off!" he roared from the front door. He had just gotten off from work, yet somehow he already knew. "Collin! You hear me? I said _turn_. _It_. _Off_!"

Finding my arms around my knees, I uncurled, jumping up and following his command without a word. Silently I thanked him for coming in at that moment. I shook my head to clear it. I couldn't let myself fall to pieces, not when I still had family. I would have my time to grieve, but now was not it, not when mother needed us and Sally, also, would need the big brother she still had left.

A single tear streaked down my face as I shut off the screen. _Oh Ryan ... be at peace. Please ... be at peace,_ I pleaded silently, wiping the tear away before turning around to go to my family. I saw the haunted look in father's eyes and knew immediately he felt the same. But he would have to hold his grief for now. He had a family to hold together, just as he held mother together in his arms, and so with a grim determination we held our emotions at bay. I painted on a smile as I went to comfort my little sister, thought I fearfully wondered ...

_... will we ever truly smile again?_

[-]

At the same moment, hundreds of miles away, a young man wakes up on a quiet, undisturbed beach, a deep forest looming around the hidden alcove. As his crusty eyelids crack open and sand encrusted scabs break, he retches salt water until his stomach is truly empty. His head thrums, eyes refusing to focus. Hunger sending sharp needles throughout his abdomen, mouth sticky with the taste of iron, he longs for the shade beneath the leaves, but his body has yet to voluntarily respond.

_Where am I ...?_

Struggling, he rolls over, bringing a bruised and swollen hand into his view to block the wavering orange sun. One of the fingers casts an unnaturally twisted shadow, catching the attention of his feverish mind. Knowing something is wrong yet unable to comprehend just what, he shifts it back into place.

Agony! Sharp and searing. The excruciating feeling forces a guttural cry from his throat and sweeps a dark sheet across his vision. A moment later, it returns, bleary and distorted. Mind finally clearing, he succumbs to his emotions.

_What's wrong? What's going on? Why am I here?_ he wonders, each body-wracking sob making the next worse. _Why __... why can't I remember anything ...?_

The sun is halfway below the horizon when he awakes, unaware of slipping back into sleep. The pain has subsided into a dull, full-body ache. Rolling over onto an arm in an attempt to stand, the sand spins beneath him and sends him into a fit of dry heaving. Resting for a moment, he tries again. This time he makes it to his feet, only to collapse back to his knees as the world turns upside down.

Again he rests, wearily casting his gaze about him. A puddle in the sand reflects a raggedy-haired boy, wet hair black highlighted against a pale, lacerated face, before a Krabby scuttles through it. It scolds him before disappearing into the surf. A second Krabby pauses to study him before following it's friend. Staring dumbly after them, something tugs at his heart, something struggling to make itself known.

_A Krabby ... a Krabby! I know that Pokemon!_

As the sun dips below the waves, the boy makes a final effort to stand and walk towards the forested edge of the beach; each step an effort, every wish to stop and rest a trap from which he may never get up. A cold wind begins to blow inland, ice against his body, wet clothes barely a barrier. Finally, as the last rays of light wither away into night, he reaches out and steadies himself on the bark of a tree. Turning his back to it to rest, he sees nothing but waves crashing, the horizon disappearing into a deep darkness.

_Gotta find shelter ... gotta survive. _Looking up into the treetops and the glittering stars mirrored by the sea, he prays.

"Perhaps," he rasps quietly into the darkness, "you might let me at least see tomorrow ...?"


End file.
